


Praying

by DesdemonaSunrise



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: A smutty happy ending, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Because the song is SO GOOD, Dorian is a Good Friend, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Miscarriage, POV Cullen Rutherford, Praying - Kesha, Song Lyrics, Suicidal Thoughts, Triggers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-02
Updated: 2017-08-02
Packaged: 2018-12-10 10:08:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,997
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11689449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DesdemonaSunrise/pseuds/DesdemonaSunrise
Summary: She had looked at him so seriously, so sadly, her trembling hands gripped in his as they both ignored the sounds of burning, screaming, people dying that were leaking through the Chantry doors. They'd tried to get everyone they could inside, but they had not been able to save them all. You never could, Cullen knew that. It didn't make it any easier. He didn't remember what he had said, but he remembered her quiet words just for him as if they had been carved into him, left a physical mark nothing would be able to remove. 'Let mine be the last sacrifice,' she had whispered up to him, and his heart had beat so hard it hurt. Auroreknewwhat it meant to be the Herald of Andraste. She was afraid to die, and she had gone out there anyway.--Cullen finds himself falling for a Herald whose faith carried them through hard times, just as his has.





	Praying

**Author's Note:**

> So I was listening to Praying by Kesha for maybe the 400th time when the 150 hours I've sunk into this game caught up with me and I got one of those ideas I knew I had to write down or it would bug me until I did. I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing it. For those who just want 17k of Cullen's POV and angst with some happy ending smut and snow white fluff. 
> 
> Trigger warnings in tags, please do not hesitate to ask me if you'd like to know which bits to avoid.
> 
> Please R&R. Particularly if you like the song yourself, I'd like to know how well I captured some of the raw emotion of it!

~*~

 _Am I dead? Or is this one of those dreams. Those horrible dreams, that seem like they last forever. If I am alive - why?_ Why _? If there is a god or whatever – something, somewhere – why have I been abandoned by everyone and everything I've ever known, I've ever loved? Stranded. What is the lesson? What is the_ point _? God, give me a sign or I have to give up. I can't do this anymore. Please just let me die. Being alive hurts too much._

_~*~_

_Prologue_

Aurore stared out of the window, watched the rain drip down the thin pane of glass and collect in puddles in the courtyard below. Rain was rare enough in Ostwick that it had been something to be enjoyed, once; as a child she had snuck away into the back garden to play and dance in the rain, muddying her clothes and earning herself reprimands from her unimpressed mother. Now, all she could think was that maybe the rain darkening the pavestones outside would wash away some of the filth in this city. She had thought in the beginning that maybe she just missed Ostwick, had written tear-stained letters to her parents begging them to reconsider the move to Kirkwall. Now all she wanted was to be _away_.

Her parents had scolded her for her desperate pleas, had told her that she was shaming their family and house with her uncouth behaviour. Aurore had tried to explain that he _hurt_ her, and her mother had dismissed her as a dramatic teenager.

No rescue would come from her parents. She was on her own. She had to take her fate into her own hands and leave. She prayed the Maker understood why she had to run, that He had intended for her to dig so deeply inside herself to find the will to go on, to almost unmake herself in her quest to endure.

 _Maker, grant me strength_ , Aurore whispered in her mind. _Maker, let this be the right choice._ She closed her eyes as she tried to block out the man stood behind her chair.

'Aurore, my sweet, it will all get better soon,' Matthieu cooed at her.

 _Yes, it will,_ she thought. _But not for the reasons you think._

He had tearfully promised he would never lay a hand on her again. Had told her how sorry he was, how he regretted it, he would do better. How once they got married, it would all be different.

Had she really come across as such a naïve fool? For him to think she would believe that? She wondered. Perhaps she had been, it was hard to tell. So much had changed in the last year.

'Does it still hurt, my love?' He asked her, hand resting possessively on her shoulder and caging her in against her seat.

She nodded wordlessly. It did, but not so much physically anymore. She'd initially been bedridden for three weeks, and some physical effects still lingered. But now most of her pain was all tangled up in her chest, an aching loss in her soul that he would never acknowledge or accept as being his fault. His opinion was that he was sorry, and thus, he should be forgiven. He _loved_ her, he claimed and whined and cajoled, and that was supposed to be the panacea for all her hurts. They would _move on together_ , he told her, and she wanted to spit in his face, but she hadn't.

She hadn't said a word against him or his delusions. She had nodded along and had carefully pretended to still be unable to walk without a bad limp, and when he left tonight with his parents to travel to Ostwick to finalise wedding details without his poor, ailing betrothed, she and her handmaiden would leave. Lilly had been by her side since Aurore had been a child and it had been a relief when she agreed to come with her. Aurore didn't want to be alone, and she had feared what would happen to Lilly if she stayed.

'I will see you as soon as I get back, my darling.'

Aurore nodded again. Matthieu bent down to force a kiss on her, gripping her tightly around the chin. She used to think he didn't know his own strength, but he did: he was so _gentle_ when handling her face, her arms, her _neck_. He only indulged in force when he knew it wouldn't bruise, or in soft pressure intended to intimidate instead of harm. Aurore wiped her mouth and continued watching out of the window as he left. Half an hour or so later, he rode out of Hightown, with much fanfare and most of the household staff going with him.

Aurore waited another hour before she stood, crossing the room to where Lilly sat quietly with a book. She took her only friend's hand, the other woman looking up and smiling wide. 'It is time. Get ready and meet me by the back door,' Aurore told her.

Once Lilly had slipped through the servant's door to her own rooms, Aurore collected together her travelling articles from their various hiding places. A worn leather travel bag that already contained her few sentimental items, a peasant outfit meticulously selected so each piece was faded and old, and the daggers she had snuck into Kirkwall carefully hidden in her underclothes. She smoothed her hand down the longer of her two blades, so grateful that she'd kept them for the fond memories of the knights and guards she had sparred with, of her brother's exasperation as she refused to accept girls shouldn't fight and the look on his face when she'd beat him for the first time after practicing for so long to catch up. She had never expected to need them for self-defence, to be taking them with her this second time with the intention of fighting to the death anyone who caught up with her.

Aurore took her hair down from its complicated bun and cut it short without ceremony, discarding the long locks into the fire blazing in the hearth. She completed her transformation with a floor-length travelling cloak she had hidden carefully under her more luxurious alternatives; made of rough cotton with a deep hood, it covered her completely when she wore it. It was a silly sentiment, but Aurore felt safer wrapped up in it, as she turned on the spot and looked around the rooms that had been her prison.

Nothing left in here was hers. She had been permitted to bring very little from her childhood home, only a few small heirlooms and trinkets. Matthieu had told her she could decorate their new home however she wanted when they were married, and she had believed it, more fool her. She hoped the house he had bought in Hightown for them had cost him a lot of money.

She crossed the upper hall to Matthieu's personal chambers, heading towards his dresser and opened his jewellery box and – there it was, as she suspected. His family signet ring. He tended to leave it behind when he planned to stop off at brothels during a trip. Aurore took the ring and made her way quietly and calmly through the back passages of the house until she reached the servants' exit where Lilly waited in an outfit not unlike her own.

The trip down to the markets was uneventful, and Aurore breathed a sigh of relief as they left Hightown. She knew that Matthieu believed her too cowed to do something audacious like this, and his parents were too wilfully blind to his cruelty to predict it either, but she had still been afraid something would go wrong. The rain continued, mud swirling down through the cracks between the cobblestones, and Aurore tried not to wince when the long steps down began to make her injuries flare up. Lilly supported her, not commenting as they descended down to the docks and began to step carefully through the Maker-knew-what lining the streets down here. Aurore lifted her cloak and watched her feet, trying to ignore the _smell_.

They bypassed the fishing boats and canoes. The first charter vessel they came across was heading down the Waking Sea, stopping off at Cumberland and Val Chevin before arriving at Val Royeaux the next day. It was perfect. From Val Royeaux, they could travel to anywhere they wished. Aurore paid for a private room for two and promptly claimed the left side of the bed and the small chest of draws wedged into corner of the cramped room. Aurore stashed her valuables inside her pillowcase and daggers under the mattress, and then opened the top draw to put away her bag. She paused, noticing a glint down the side, something that had fallen into the crack. She carefully scraped it out with her fingernail and held it up to the light of the flickering candle.

It was a cheap chain, but the pendant was a small golden symbol of Andraste.

Aurore stared at it for a while before a wide smile spread across her face. The Maker had given her the sign she had asked for. She pressed the symbol to her lips and slipped the chain over her head, and left Lilly getting ready for bed to go to the prow of the ship. She watched as they drew away from the city that had become her waking nightmare. She closed her eyes as they left the shelter of the tall cliffs and the wind began to lift, throwing her hood back and whipping about her hair. She inhaled the smell of the sea deeply, watched as the sun set and colours painted the open sky. Then she took Matthieu's ring from her pocket and flicked it into the sea, watching as it disappeared under the water.

'Goodbye,' she murmured, a small smile on her face as she turned and made her way back into the belly of the ship.

~*~

_You almost had me fooled_

_Told me that I was nothing without you_

_Oh, but after everything you’ve done_

_I can thank you for how strong I have become_

~*~

‘This is not the woman responsible. I refuse to believe it.’

‘We haven’t found any other survivors. Are we to believe that the attacker perished in a suicide run while this woman miraculously managed to take refuge in the Fade itself?’

He was not impressed. His men had spent days searching down every half-collapsed corridor and behind every outcropping of rock. All they had found was charred corpses frozen in the position the blast had caught them in, faces stuck in rictuses of agony. He’d had to implement rotas with the hunters and infantry as the duty had begun to seem a punishment, it was so harrowing. He’d been nearby when this woman had appeared, fortunately, as none of those who had seen her appear wanted to touch her. All that searching, and the only survivor was someone whose only injury was a damning green light embedded in their hand.

‘ _This woman_ is a trusted friend. She would not betray the Divine. She would not be swayed by promises of wealth or power, and she would not give in to a threat.'

Cassandra swept her arm in a decisive denial, and then crossed her arms and stared down at the unconscious and suspiciously whole woman unblinkingly, as if her gaze alone could wake her. Cullen knew Cassandra was desperately hoping their prisoner would awake so she could prove her innocence.

‘Cassandra...’

‘No,’ Cassandra responded with finality as she let her arms drop with a slow exhale. ‘Perhaps I am wrong. But we will judge her when she wakes, and not before.’

Cullen shook his head as Cassandra left, sending a glance towards Leliana as he waited. He’d been working with them both long enough now that he could recognise the Spymaster’s thinking face from around the corner.

Eventually, she spoke. ‘Let us move her to a cell with a bed, one near light but properly secured and guarded. Cassandra wants her treated well, but we cannot ignore the possibility she is a danger. Solas may choose to attend to her without precautions, but I am not so trusting.’

Cullen dipped his head in acknowledgement and agreement.

‘I presume you vetted her?’

‘Of course. But she came with Cassandra’s recommendation and so I did not delve too deeply. Maybe I should have.’

As the heavy door closed behind Leliana, Cullen raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck as he considered the woman laid out on the floor and then the men stationed at each corner of the room.

‘I suppose none of you want to carry her down?’ He asked mildly, unsurprised when the only response was some uneasy shifting and clanking of armour. ‘Very well,’ he sighed.

She was a small woman, but much heavier than she looked, he thought uncharitably as he heaved her over his shoulder.

~*~

‘ _Cause you brought the flames and you put me through hell_

_I had to learn how to fight for myself_

_And we both know all the truth I could tell_

_I’ll just say this is I wish you farewell_

~*~

The fight was dire. He was doing all he could to stem the flow of demons and wraiths but it was a never-ending onslaught. Huge numbers would spawn from the tears in the Fade without warning or reason. His men – what remained of his men – were flagging. They had long since overcome the initial jitters of facing demons, and now the only thing keeping them going was adrenaline and anger at how many had already been torn apart. They were beyond the point of reason and had been ignoring their tiredness with the fervour that only appeared in dire battles such as these. That couldn’t last much longer. He hoped Solas found a way to close these rifts soon, or he would have to call and a retreat and let this horde advance while he wasted _days_ trying to recruit in the Hinterlands and bolster his numbers.

‘Hold the line!’ He bellowed as he swung through a wraith and watched it dissipate out of the corner of his eye even as he turned to a terror demon whose long claws were reaching for two of his solders at once. He stepped around them and attacked its back, targeting the weak points and joints as he had been instructed so long ago in a class on demon types his teacher had most certainly not imagined he would have to make use of so often. One arm hit the ground – the other had its claws in his soldier's throat. Cullen slammed the edge of his shield into the terror's neck viciously as the thing bent down to bite at its captive prey.

Too late, again. It seemed like every demon managed to take one of his before it went down.

He turned to the next, even though his arms ached and his shield was heavy and normally he would fall out as tiredness could kill just like a blade, but here he was one of the few with experience fighting demons. His men were learning how to fight them on the battlefield by watching him. There was no time to train them any other way. He would rest only when he had to.

The rift pulsed again, those strange tendrils of light creeping along the ground that Cullen had identified as signs more demons would appear about two hours ago.

‘Rylen, head to the right, make sure the—’ His words cut off as a thick tendril of green light whipped itself into existence above his head and he instinctively ducked, backing up several steps as the crackling sound intensified. He had just had time to pray this was not the sign of a larger demon like a Pride coming through when the sound abruptly stopped as if swallowed. By the time he had regained his bearings and cautiously turned so he could have the tear on one side and whatever new devilry he now had to face on the other, he found himself blinking in disbelief as his men roared in triumph at the now whole patch of sky.

He gave the battleground a quick assessment and found that nothing remained to fight. He lowered his shield cautiously, still not really believing that it was over, and turned fully to the group of newcomers, finding the woman he had last seen unconscious on a cell floor bent over at the waist, clutching her glowing hand to her chest whilst Solas and Cassandra held her up. When she raised her head, she looked nauseated and drained, the flickers of green light across her face not helping her pallor. Cassandra said a few words to her, receiving a weak nod before she gestured for Varric to take her place and strode towards him.

‘Closing the rifts weakens or kills the demons that have come through,’ she explained as she reached him, even more to the point than normal. ‘But closing such an active one is very draining for Aurore. I tried to get her to wait until more had been defeated, but she was insistent. We will have to wait before we can try to close the first rift, above the remains of the Conclave.’ Cassandra glanced around the battlefield, stoic as she took in the massacre of their men, before she gazed into the direction of where she would be heading.

Cullen cleaned his sword and stowed it away absently, watching the newcomer as she insisted she was fine and stood upright on legs as wobbly as a newborn foal’s.

‘So I take it we no longer have a prisoner?’ He asked, trying to remain neutral as he gestured towards the arms hovering in the air for balance instead of bound with some very robustly knotted rope.

‘I have promised her a trial. The people need a scapegoat, but she has been... she has been doing all she can to close the rifts and earn our trust.’ Cassandra finished her thought slowly.

‘Are you not concerned it is an act to ease suspicion?’ His voice was low and even as he glanced around, making sure none were close enough to hear the crack in their united front.

Cassandra shook her head. ‘If it is an act, it is a very good one. Aurore was part of the Divine’s personal guard for a reason. She is a devout and loyal woman. The news of Most Holy’s death has distressed her greatly.’

Cullen hummed, not voicing for the moment his concerns that Cassandra not wanting to believe a guard she had handpicked herself for the Divine’s safety was blinkering her to the possibility that the simplest answer was the correct one. He was well acquainted with the dangers of people seeing what they wanted to see. But he would withhold his judgement and resolved he would instead keep a close eye on this Aurore until such a time he shared Cassandra’s conviction or some stronger evidence of guilt.

The woman in question approached, her impromptu attendants hovering at her elbows. Her strides were now long and confident – she moved almost like a fighter but there was something off, she wasn't quite solid and square enough. Short swords rested at her hips. He’d already catalogued the scarred hands and lean physique of someone used to combat. Not a mage, which helped her case. But very possibly an infiltrator or assassin. After all, she may not have blown up the Conclave, but that didn’t mean she was innocent. They had enemies.

Then again, she had just saved what remained of his men. To hear Cassandra tell it, she could have waited for the demons to thin out and risked more of them dying. He owed her civility, at least.

‘Aurore, this is Cullen Rutherford, commander of our forces.’

‘Commander,’ she greeted, dipping her head gracefully. He nodded back.

‘So I take it the mark is able to close the rifts?’

‘Yes,’ Aurore answered promptly. ‘Although where it came from or how it works, I do not know.’ He noticed she had, perhaps unconsciously, moved to stand to attention. He had the feeling her hands would be clasped behind her back if she hadn’t been inspecting her marked palm. He was proven correct when she gave a little start, glancing up to meet his gaze and then Cassandra’s before dropping her hand and moving it behind her. Her stand to attention was definitely deliberate this time, but she was looking to Cassandra rather than himself.

‘Do you feel ready to close the first rift?’

Aurore nodded, and whilst Solas stepped forward to postulate and caution about too-frequent use of the mark, all Cullen could focus on was the tight expression on Aurore’s face as she stared at the Breach. She was in pain, but trying not to show it. Cullen didn’t doubt Solas had picked up on this as well; the man had an uncanny knack for reading people for someone who had supposedly exiled themselves into the Fade most of their life.

‘Are you alright, Aurore? Does the mark hurt?’ He didn't want to sound too familiar with her, but he hadn't been given a family name to address her by, and 'Prisoner' or 'Woman' would just sound unaccountably rude.

‘I am fine, Commander. I can handle it.’ Her gaze never left the Breach. She was trying far too hard to find conviction in her own words. Cullen glanced at her crossed arms with tightly clenched fists, and said nothing.

He turned away to continue directing his troops, a little unbalanced now that he realised how _young_ she was. She had seemed older when she slept, but as she stood staring with white-knuckled terror at the Breach, her youth was all he could see when he looked at her.

He busied himself for a time, organising what remained of his men, but found himself glancing back at Aurore as he dismissed his Lieutenant. She was still staring upwards with the same muted horror he had seen on every face in the last few days at one point or another, oblivious to the magical theory being espoused next to her. She still looked very young, and very scared. Cullen felt a little pang because, guilty or otherwise, he had no doubt that being responsible for fixing this would change that, one way or another.

~*~

_I hope you’re somewhere praying_

_I hope your soul is changing_

_I hope you find your peace_

_Falling on your knees, praying_

~*~

‘Though all before me is shadow, yet shall the Maker be my guide.'

The words made him pause his journey towards the hastily assembled war room in the back of the Chantry. It wasn’t that someone was praying in a place of worship, it was _who_. The words were recited perfectly, the intonation and pacing just as it was during morning prayer, but it was not one of the Sisters, no...

Almost without thought his feet carried him around a column to one of the many shrines to Andraste tucked into the corners of Haven’s chantry. Kneeled before it, head bowed and resting on her interlaced hands, was Aurore. She had returned that morning from an initial expedition to the Hinterlands, hence the summoning for a meeting so she and Cassandra could give a full account of their findings.

‘Commander,’ she greeted quietly after a moment. ‘I will be in the War Room shortly.’

It was a polite but clear dismissal, and he nodded and continued on his way before realising he should have said something. Asked how she had known who it was behind her – although undoubtedly it was the weight of his steps and his armour – or made a comment that she was welcome to take her time. Communication lines with those out in the field were still suffering some teething issues, but he'd gotten enough missives that he was certain the Hinterlands were being torn apart by the civil war and that the journey had been deeply unpleasant and likely distressing. That reminded him – he needed to address their newest recruits from near Redcliffe.

He was first to arrive, as usual. He busied himself tidying papers and straightening the table, reading through his short list of points to be raised during the meeting – a rather harried Josephine had insisted they all draw up agendas to try and avoid yet another gathering derailed by arguments on where they could source more support, or men, or supplies – when Aurore joined him. He nodded in greeting, and although he had not planned to mention it again, he felt some guilt at having likely cut short her time at prayer. He added to his list a recommendation that Scout Harding be sent to any new regions for first recon duties alongside a note that she would be up for promotion if she kept up the good work, and then fidgeted a bit, before resting his hands on his sword pommel out of habit and telling himself to get on with it.

‘My, ah, apologies for earlier. I did not mean to interrupt,’ he offered quietly, glancing up to find her calm gaze on him.

‘No apologies needed, Commander,’ she replied as she set down her own small pile of papers and scrolls.

Cullen paused. He wanted to ask – but no, that was personal and potentially intrusive. He shut his mouth again. He noticed Aurore smiling ruefully at him and raised an eyebrow.

‘I’ve been teased before about being more Andrastian than a Templar. Undoubtedly Cassandra will mention it during her report.’

‘What could you possibly have done that’s too Andrastian for a Seeker?’ He asked in bewilderment. Aurore snorted in amusement.

‘It wasn’t Cassandra that had a problem.’

The answer came to him shortly. ‘Ah, Solas.’

‘Quite. He rolled his eyes so many times I thought they might fall out of his head.’

As if on cue, Cassandra entered, wearing the set of lighter armour that was as close as she got to off-duty wear.

‘Ah good, you are here. Let us begin,’ she said as Josephine and Leliana filed through behind her and split off to take places either side of him.

‘The Hinterlands are in utter chaos. Both sides of the war have renewed their attacks and neither of them seem to care if innocents are caught in the crossfire. Most of the homes on the road to Redcliffe are either destroyed or abandoned.’ Aurore began. She had initially been wary – and he knew it made her uncomfortable to be labelled Herald of Andraste – to be given such a role in their operations, but she seemed to have come to terms with her responsibilities and the good she could do as a figurehead and agent.

Cassandra nodded in agreement. ‘We attempted to introduce ourselves as a neutral party and intervene but neither side ceased their attacks.’

‘As such, we believe we will need to locate and rout the base camps of both sides before the area can be stabilised and made safe. We think that the Templars are near an intersection with a river, and the mages have holed themselves further away from Redcliffe in a cave or ruin they can fortify with magical barriers.’ Aurore stepped forward and placed the Templar shield and the Mage staff map markers as she spoke. ‘The mage camp is more uncertain. We’re fairly sure we found the Templar camp before we had to turn back or risk an attack,’ she finished, tapping the map to indicate where she was speaking of. Then she locked arms behind her back and waited for questions on her report.

‘That is unfortunate. I had hoped we could broker peace between them. It would have greatly aided our efforts to gain legitimacy,’ Josephine mused as she finished taking notes with her trusty board.

‘Aye, but gaining the trust of the local people and those affected by the conflict is a good second option. For these groups to be attacking indiscriminately means they are beyond reason, we should focus efforts on those who are not actively prolonging the conflict,’ Cullen countered, fists resting on the table as he considered the map.

‘Agreed,’ Leliana stated succinctly. ‘Speaking of which; Herald, did you succeed in your efforts to increase the influence of the Inquisition?’

‘I believe so. We established several camps throughout the Hinterlands so our troops and messengers could move more freely about the region, and we have also declared the Crossroads, a refugee camp, as being under our protection. Corporal Vale, who was sent as requested, has taken charge of the camp.’ Aurore placed more markers and nodded to Cullen in gratitude when mentioning the Corporal.

‘Excellent,’ Leliana responded, sounding pleased.

‘The Herald forgets to mention she has also personally been aiding the refugees. So far we have supplied them with location of rebel supply caches and provided them with ram meat we hunted. This is what added a few extra days to our trip, but Corporal Vale thinks some of the refugees will volunteer to join our cause as a result.’

Aurore shifted, and Cullen wondered if she minded being outed for having a weakness for the needy or for having potentially gone outside her assignment parameters.

‘Is this true?’ Josephine queried.

Aurore nodded, still looking ill at ease when Cassandra scoffed. ‘It is not a crime to have helped them, my friend. You’re not going to be reprimanded.’

Josephine nodded and gestured with her quill to show her agreement. Leliana was silent for a moment before asking: ‘Why go to such lengths to help them?’

It sounded like a test, and Cullen thought Aurore had recognised that, with the way she straightened and met the Spymaster’s eyes squarely.

‘Those people had lost everything. They’d been caught up in a war they wanted nothing to do with and were helpless to stop. I know what that’s like, to—’ she cut herself off, and took a moment to collect herself. ‘To have your world turned upside down in a moment. I had the power to do something, so I did. I won't turn my back on someone who needs my help. That’s not who I am.’

‘An admirable principle to live by, but be careful that it isn’t used against you.’ Leliana cautioned her without fervour, a considering look in her eyes as she tilted her head like the birds she tended to.

After a charged moment, Josephine made a decisive line in her parchment, cutting through the tension with a precision that Cullen was still impressed by no matter how many times he saw it. ‘So, we are in agreement with the plan for the Hinterlands, then?’ A round of ayes and she swiftly moved onto the next order of business.

‘So, I have had several interesting exchanges this week with the Orlesian family claiming to own Haven...’

~*~

_I’m proud of who I am_

_No more monsters, I can breathe again_

_And you said that I was done_

_But you were wrong and now the best is yet to come_

~*~

A large slice of Aurore’s efforts to make herself part of the Inquisition had been her rounds amongst just about everyone at Haven. Everybody knew Aurore, and he had heard from neighbouring tables at dinner that she had spoken to everybody from Minaeve to the stableboy. Her second conversation with him, however, was taking a ridiculous turn, and he had to wonder what had happened since Mother Giselle's morning prayer to make her so bold. Should he have someone check her food, he wondered as he blinked at her.

‘I... beg your pardon?’

‘You know,’ Aurore waved a hand emphatically. ‘Vows of chastity. Like Sisters are expected to take.’

He coughed to clear his throat. ‘Um, no, that is... not required, although some Templars do choose to take additional vows such as those when they pass their Vigil.’

‘Did you?’ She asked without hesitation, and he wondered now why he had thought questioning her on her faith or her past would be “too personal”.

‘Er, no, I have taken no such vows.’ And if he had, he would have broken them many times over by now. Or regretted even more ever having become a Templar, a feat which he had previously thought impossible. Seeing a satisfied curl to Aurore's lips, he rallied; he would not be outdone in such games, he had not spent time with Hawke and Varric for nothing. ‘Why, are you saying I should have?’

The question surprised her, mouth dropping open into a little ‘o’ of surprise. ‘Maker, no!’ She responded immediately, and he couldn't quite hide his considering look at what had been a very honest and instinctive response. _Well_.

Aurore dropped her head sheepishly. ‘I suppose that was quite personal.’

‘Only slightly. I think you owe me at least one interesting detail about you,’ he rejoindered with a half-smile. He spotted Varric, who had been listening in for some time, silently begin cheering for him from the steps to the gates and valiantly ignored him and his pumping fists. Maker's breath why was everyone from Kirkwall _insufferable_? It must have been something in the water.

Aurore blinked at him. ‘I'm afraid I don’t have any interesting facts ready and waiting. What would you like to know?’

‘You are Andrastian?’ It came out a question, though it really wasn’t. Varric put his hands on his head as he shook his head in exaggerated horror. Cullen knew he was mouthing the words “no, Curly, _no._ ” He would ignore that, too.

‘...Yes?’ Aurore said cautiously, tilting her head in slightly alarmed curiosity, clearly wondering where he was going with this.

‘Have you always been so? Does your family have strong ties to the Chantry?’

Aurore seemed surprised, eyes drifting off into the distance as she thought. After a few seconds she hummed thoughtfully.

‘I always forget that other people have families, that their default position is to assume mine is a big part of my life.’ She arranged herself against a nearby training post, arms crossed and one leg bent in front of the other in a deceptively relaxed pose. ‘No, in short. I was raised Andrastian but didn’t really believe any of it. It wasn’t until I was nearly a woman that I found my faith. I turned to the Maker during the darkest period of my life, and He helped me find the light.’

‘I am sorry. I didn’t mean to—’ He immediately began to apologise for such a misstep, but she waved him away with a rueful smile.

‘I’m not ashamed of my past. It doesn’t haunt me. Don’t feel like you need to censor yourself on my account.’

Cullen wished he could say the same. How he envied her – how he wished he were able to let go of his demons as it appeared she had. It was a strength that he doubted he would ever possess, on his darker days when the climb upwards seemed hopelessly long and fraught.

‘As you wish.’

'What about you then? Are you finally going to be the devout, faithful Templar I was promised did exist somewhere?' She was teasing him again, a smirk curling one side of her mouth.

He laughed, a touch of bitterness creeping through as he immediately thought of Kinloch and its desire demon, Kirkwall and its madness. 'I've tried to be, Maker knows it hasn't always worked out.'

'Oh?' She raised an eyebrow, and Cullen grimaced, shifting from foot to foot.

'I was in Kinloch Hold during the Blight, and after that, I was transferred to Kirkwall.'

Aurore's eyes softened in sympathy. 'Wrong places at the wrong times. You don't have much luck, Commander.'

'So I've been told,' he responded dryly, and Aurore snorted into an amused hand.

He wanted to ask what had caused the darkness in her life, turn the focus back onto her, but she had diverted the topic to his family and the conversation ended up with her admonishing him for not contacting them and being more grateful for still having them, and before he knew it he was staring after her as she left to go and prepare for her upcoming foray to the Storm Coast, still hearing the ringing his armour had made when she had casually whacked him in the arm in recrimination.

Varric sauntered over with all the subtlety of a goat adorned with flower crowns and copious amounts of chest hair.

'Not a word, dwarf,' Cullen huffed, suddenly realising with some horror that there had been plenty of recruits within earshot for the last twenty minutes. And _Cassandra_ , who looked either like she wanted to growl at him or shake his hand far too firmly.

As soon as Varric had thrown his hands to the air in defeat and left, Cassandra came over with even less subtlety and gestured with her sword the way Aurore had gone before starting to clean it.

'Be careful with that one, Commander,' she told him with a barely repressed smirk and Cullen didn't hold back his sigh as he walked over to the newest recruits. Back to work.

~*~

‘ _Cause I can make it on my own_

_And I don’t need you, I’ve found a strength I’ve never known_

_I'll bring thunder, I'll bring rain_

_Oh, when I’m finished, they won’t even know your name_

~*~

Everyone else was celebrating their victory with the breach, but Aurore was sitting quietly on a stack of crates and watching the festivities rather than participating.

She'd been quiet after closing the Breach. No, Cullen corrected himself as he watched her shoo away the Iron Bull, she'd been quiet since returning from Redcliffe. She and Dorian – a Tevinter mage whose moustache and glib comments were fighting for first place as his most impressive trait – had given rather unbelievable accounts of travelling through time into a future a year from now all but broken by some “Elder One”. Aurore had looked more tired than he'd ever seen her, and once Dorian had left, she had leant on the table and confessed quietly that perhaps they should have gone for the Templars after all.

Josephine and Leliana had taken turns reminding her of why she had made her decision, before Cassandra had swept a hand through the air and declared that what was done, was done. And then added, with a hand on the shoulder and a gentleness Cullen knew she reserved for her closest friends, that they had done what they could to get those Templars who wanted to defect from the Lord Seeker's madness on their way to Haven. So far, almost thirty had arrived. Nothing like the dozens or even hundreds they could have recruited otherwise, but still a significant boost to their numbers. Those who had come were eager to get involved and train the greenhorn refugees and Haven locals... and watch their new mage allies, which Cullen had _not_ been pleased with. Aurore had at least set up a structured open table between the most senior Templar and Grand Enchanter Fiona to discuss both sides working together. Aurore had made a rather impassioned speech on how things needed to change, how they needed to be the example the rest of Thedas could follow, and had eventually seemed to have some moderate success in getting through to them. Tensions had not run as high as Cullen had feared.

Aurore waved at him, and he blinked himself back into the present. He could reminisce later.

Cullen crossed to her and passed her a mug of the mulled wine a scout had given Flissa the recipe for which wasn’t half bad. Aurore accepted with a smile and clinked cups with him.

‘Crowds not to your liking?’ He asked her after a while of companionable silence.

‘I’m not used to being centre of attention. Makes me a bit uneasy, really. I’m happy to do the hard work in the background while others get the limelight.’ She admitted, heels clacking against the crate rhythmically as she took her first sip and hummed appreciatively.

‘Why? You deserve recognition,’ he asked her, and he reddened as she turned her head and looked at him, a hand going up to rub the back of his neck. He felt like he was being cross-examined. 

‘I’ve been trained not to seek it almost my entire life. First by my father and then by my betrothed.’

Cullen started. ‘But I thought...’

Aurore looked up from staring into the bottom of her mug with a wry expression. ‘You assumed when I said I had no family I meant I was an orphan. No, I am disowned. I was raised to be seen and not heard, the spare, unobtrusive heir to a minor fortune and family name unknown outside of the Free Marches that was really not worth all their machinations.’

‘I see. So you left?’

She nodded. ‘Yes. My to-be husband was disappointed to get second choice, but assumed I was too young to resist his attempts to mould me into the perfect wife. It worked for him for a while. Then I ran away.’

Cullen stared at Sera, who was busy juggling peaches and sending flirtatious glances to any woman who looked her way, not sure he knew how to continue the conversation without fumbling very awkwardly.

'Where did you go?' He asked eventually. He tried to imagine how Aurore could have gone from young, pampered noblewoman to the person she was today.

'Orlais. I wandered for a while before I tried to join the Seekers. It was one of the few places Matthieu couldn't follow me,' she replied, and Cullen felt a little sick as a pit abruptly appeared in his stomach. This man had _followed_ her? He did not like the sound of that at all.

‘You don’t seem to harbour much hatred for him,’ he commented eventually as Sera threw the fruit in the air and struck them with three perfectly placed arrows, then bowed to the cheering crowd.

'The one who repents, who has faith, unshaken by the darkness of the world; she shall know true peace,' Aurore recited quietly.

'Transfigurations ten,' Cullen said softly, and Aurore sent him a knowing smile. Cullen wondered if he would know the Chant as she did, if he hadn't been forced to study it and memorise it and recite it day after day. ‘It's quite a feat, to live by the Maker's teachings.’ He said it honestly. He had been part of an Order that was supposed to embody them, but he could remember precious little piety now that he looked back. Few who claimed to know the word of the Maker actually followed it. He himself had been swayed away from the truth that all of those under the Maker's eyes were equal.

It had also made sense that Aurore had tried to become a Seeker, and why she and Cassandra were good friends. She was an admirable person, a good role model. They were lucky she had been the one Marked. It was completely unthinkable now to contemplate Aurore having been responsible for the explosion of the Conclave. He wasn't quite sure when that had happened, but it had.

‘I didn't for years. It took time. But now, I mostly feel sorry for him.' Aurore drank a long pull from her wine. 'I pray for him, sometimes. I hope he has become a better man.'

'That is... very forgiving of you.'

'Oh no,' she shook her head. 'Only the Maker can forgive what he has done. But I realised that holding onto my anger and my resentment was only hurting _me_. Once I let it go, I felt free. I still do. He holds no power over me anymore.’ Aurore tipped her head back with eyes closed as the wind rose and the torchlight glinted off the little golden Andraste pendant she always wore.

Cullen remained quiet, the words striking deep. He wondered if some people from his past hoped he had become a better man, too. He hoped some of those he had wronged had been able to come to terms with their mistreatment as Aurore had. 

What would Aurore think of him, if she knew what he had done? Was he any better than this Matthieu? His own crimes may be different, but they were surely just as grave. Maker, he tried hard, but he wasn't sure if he would ever get to feel like he had finally made his way far enough from the darkness and the madness to consider himself a good man. Who was supposed to tell him when he had done enough? 

He shook the thoughts away - he would do his best, he would do everything within his abilities to ensure the Inquisition was a success. That would have to be enough, because it was all he had left to give. It would be enough. 

'And truthfully, it is thanks to him that I became who I am today. I started learning the Chant when he began to forbid me from leaving the house without an escort, as something to do and because I didn't have anything else to read.' Aurore cleared her throat, taking a large swig of her wine before she continued, heel thumping against the barrel she was sitting on as she shifted uncomfortably. 'Things would have gone very differently for me if I had not found strength in the Maker's words. I don't think I would still be here.'

The confession shook Cullen, and even though she was speaking of events that must have been years ago, he felt the urge to wrap her up in her arms as if to stop her disappearing that very second. The thought that Aurore had been on a knife edge and nearly tipped into the Void frightened him, made his pulse quicken in panic even though it was fine, she was here, she was _safe_.

He would make sure she was safe. He would speak with Leliana about this Matthieu first thing in the morning. The Spymaster probably already knew, but just in case.

'I don't think I would be, either,' he confessed after a while, voice rough. Cullen still felt a little like he was living on faith, on hope that things would be better, that tomorrow life would be easier. He tried to remember his sins so he could repent, so he could truly become a better man, but most of the time he just felt haunted. He just wanted something to go _right_ , for once. He missed the certainty of knowing his path was the right one. Outside of knowing the Inquisition was the right cause to get behind, he was a little lost. It was easy to be Commander. Not so much Cullen Rutherford, farmboy from Honnleath, ex-Templar that still had nightmares about his friends being torn apart by demons.

‘Thank you for telling me,’ he told her. He wanted something more sophisticated, something that properly conveyed how he understood sharing your past was not as easy as those with uncomplicated ones might think, but he couldn't quite find the right words.

‘No need to thank me. I enjoy speaking with you, Cullen,’ she told him, one side of her mouth quirked up.

She had never used his name before. He had always been addressed as “Commander” with the appropriate formality, even when she was questioning him on personal matters. There weren't many people that called him by his name, but that was no excuse for the way it gave him an immediate flush to the tips of his ears.

Cullen swallowed hard, knowing this meant... something. Aurore was looking at him now, eyes bright in the flickering light, and she looked like she was waiting. Her hair was flying about wildly in the wind and Cullen decided she looked more beautiful right then than any other woman he could remember seeing. He took a step closer, watching as her eyes glinted, as she shifted to face him more fully and leaned forward, the nearby torchlight casting her full lips in relief against her cheek.

Maker, he hoped he wasn't wrong.

Aurore had just opened her mouth to say something when a horn blared, cutting over and through all the sounds of festivities. Aurore started in surprise, her mug crashing to the ground and upending itself, leaving a deep red stain in the snow. Cullen jerked his head around, spotting a messenger reporting to Leliana and the grim look on her face, followed the hand pointing towards the range and the bright little lights appearing over the ridge of the mountain.

Cullen swore. Then he speared Aurore with a look, who was gazing at the encroaching enemy forces with a hollow gaze.

'I must go and rally the troops to arms.' He hesitated, laying a hand on her arm. 'Stay safe.'

Aurore nodded, already sliding off her crate and checking her weapons as she began moving towards Leliana. Cullen fell into battle mode as he quickly scanned Haven for Rylen, as everything other than the enemy and the set of the pieces on the battlefield were wiped from his mind, save for one last stray thought.

_Maker, watch over her._

~*~

_You brought the flames and you put me through hell_

_I had to learn how to fight for myself_

_And we both know all the truth I could tell_

_I’ll just say this is I wish you farewell_

~*~

_'If it means saving you, he can have me.'_

The words had fallen from Aurore's mouth easily as she'd looked around at their little group as they huddled in the Chantry. Cullen could only wonder that she didn't know how extraordinary she was. Everyone had reacted to her statement with mutters of disbelief or denial. Everyone had heard of heroes of legend, of martyrs, but it was another thing entirely to actually be faced with one, to hear someone pronounce their willingness to die for you and look like they meant it. It had not surprised him at all that people had volunteered to go out with her. He would have gladly gone himself if he hadn't been needed to lead the men to safety, to remain Commander for whatever survived of the Inquisition. To die protecting someone like Aurore would have been a good death, better than to be expected after the life he had had and the mistakes he had made.

He didn't think he would ever forget the sight of her stumbling into view, her lips blue and her leg all twisted backwards and Maker, she had looked one foot in Death's door. He had thought he was hallucinating until he felt her cold body shaking against his own as he carried her back, felt the cold puffs of her laboured breathing against his neck.

Every time he had glanced up to the head of the procession as they marched on what turned out to be Skyhold, he had felt a frisson of amazement down his spine, a wondrous surprise that she was alive. To look up and see her leading the way, see her walk and ride and talk with Solas and her companions, to see her whole and hale, it had affected him more than he had expected. To walk with her into Skyhold's main hall and discuss renovations had felt surreal. He had been so sure he would never see her alive again.

He'd said something in those last few moments of quiet in the Chantry just as she turned to go, fumbled for something to say, a goodbye, a confession, something to ease the ache that had sprung up in his chest when she had said she would die for them – but all he'd been able to think of was the few short hours ago when they'd shared wine and secrets and when she'd looked at him like he was the man he'd always hoped to be. She had looked at him so seriously, so sadly, her trembling hands gripped in his as they both ignored the sounds of burning, screaming, people dying that were leaking through the Chantry doors. They'd tried to get everyone they could inside, but they had not been able to save them all. You never could, Cullen knew that. It didn't make it any easier. He didn't remember what he had said, but he remembered her quiet words just for him as if they had been carved into him, left a physical mark nothing would be able to remove. 'Let mine be the last sacrifice,' she had whispered up to him, and his heart had beat so hard it hurt. Aurore _knew_ what it meant to be the Herald of Andraste. She was afraid to die, and she had gone out there anyway.

He had known then that he had lost her, lost what could have been – again. Another story that had ended in tragedy and too much death, no matter that he had given his all, that he had _tried_. He had marched from Haven with his sorrow locked deep inside and resolved he would think about her only when they were not in danger, when it wouldn't be so selfish to mourn her, when the thought of such a good soul meeting such a horrible end didn't make him feel sick.

And now she was returned.

He couldn't stop thinking about it. About her. Here he was in the blisteringly cold wind of the lesser-protected upper ramparts to check in with the guards on rotation, but he had been distracted by the sight of her going into a half-broken tower he had just claimed for his own. He'd had to turn away and face the mountains, as he knew otherwise it would just be obvious that he was watching her path through the keep.

He knew—he knew perhaps he didn't deserve... No, he most definitely did not deserve her. And yet. _And yet_.

He had come to care for her deeply. Maker's breath, he could barely think of the woman without his heart quickening, he thought with a sigh as he scrubbed a hand over his chilled face.

Cullen hadn't thought much of it when Aurore was named Herald of Andraste, still too caught up in his lingering suspicion, but now... it was nothing short of miraculous, that she had managed to save them and survive an encounter with this Corypheus who labelled himself a god and rode a dragon. She had to know she would be a figure of legend – but she still shied away from the praise and effusive adoration of the masses. It had been clear in her speech when she accepted the role of Inquisitor: Corypheus needed to be stopped, she had declared. Nothing at all said about herself, nothing trying to prove she deserved the mantle put upon her.

She was more than a woman, and yet, she also was just a woman. Anyone could be forgiven for being drawn in to her laugh, her bright-eyed enthusiasm when she sparred, her unpretentious faith in herself and in the Maker. He looked at her and was amazed so much could be contained in one person.

He pulled his coat higher around his shoulders, uncomfortable with how she could reach right through the wall his past experiences had created and bring his heart to start with a whisper. He wanted to hide, wanted to run from it, but he also wanted to run to her, to wrap her up in his arms and breathe her in, to hold her close. For the first time in so long, he felt like he was approaching something that would better him. He hadn't felt anything _good_  and pure so deeply since he was a boy. He forgot that he was a broken man when he looked at her. He just wanted, so blindly and so wholly, everything else seemed to fade until all he could see was the curve of her smile, the glint in her eyes.

He would have dismissed her responses to him as attraction, as simple lust, something he should know better than to pursue, but her nature didn't allow him that excuse. Aurore took all in her life seriously, her overtures towards him had been subtle but deliberate, and he knew to pursue anything with her would be a far cry from the casual encounters of his past.

He found that he didn't mind that idea at all.

So when he eventually gave himself up for lost and let her find him in the courtyard, and she tentatively asked him whether he was attached to anyone, because of course she would, it was easy to look at her without hiding the heat in his gaze and say 'Not in Kirkwall,' and watch her throat as she swallowed, as she nodded and her cheeks heated.

Yes, Maker take him, but whether he deserved it or not, he had to try. He had to know if it could be. If she knew him, knew all the filth that stained some chapters of his life and would still have him, Maker, he was hers... No, he was already hers, he corrected himself wryly, it would be whether she would be _his_. The thought made it hard to breathe.

'But there is something I must tell you,' he began, and Aurore's gaze sharpened. She glanced around their exposed position and gestured up towards the way he had come. He nodded gratefully and they began ascending the stairs and walking towards an odd little platform off the ramparts above the tavern. Aurore sat on a barrel tucked into a corner of the rampart wall and looked up at him expectantly, and he was reminded of the missed opportunity during that last moment of joy before Haven had been attacked.

He took a deep breath and let it out, again tracing his gaze along the peaks of the mountains to collect himself.

'You should know that I stopped taking lyrium when I joined the Inquisition.'

She didn't look surprised. 'Cullen, I know,' she told him softly, her hand coming to rest on his arm.

He blinked down at her. 'I – ah – excuse me?' He stammered, off-kilter. He immediately felt self-conscious and wondered if he had been noticeably suffering. He had found ways to make the occasional tremors in his hands lessen, he had been drinking special tea to help him sleep so he looked rested; had he missed something?

'Well, I suspected, when you told me about leaving the Templars in Kirkwall. It seemed to me like you wanted to cut ties with that life,' Aurore said hesitantly, peering up at him through her lashes.

He let out a sigh of relief, shuffled and looked down at his boots. 'Yes, that is exactly right. We have secured lyrium for the other Templars we have here, and I don't begrudge them that, but I won't be tied to that leash any longer.'

Aurore nodded firmly. 'Of course. You have my support.' She paused, drawing her hand along his arm – and how he regretted being in full armour, but last time he had nearly touched her it had turned out he very much needed to be – so her fingers could rest on the leather covering the hand clenched around his sword pommel. 'Are you in pain, Cullen?' She asked him, so gently.

'I can handle it,' he told her, a mirthful curve to his lips as he referenced back to her words from when they first met. She smiled in response.

'So you can,' she hummed. 'Thank you for telling me,' she said with a little smile, referring to what _he_ had said that last night in Haven.

'I thought you should know,' he told her simply, the line he had already prepared in his head coming out as planned, for once.

Aurore considered him with a little smile, and then winced. 'If,' she paused again, and licked her lips, which was distracting but not enough for him to miss how nervous she looked. 'If we are going to be sharing secrets like that, then you should know that... ah,' Aurore ran a hand through her hair, looking almost in pain herself. 'This is difficult to say.'

It took a moment for Cullen to realise that Aurore had entirely understood why he had thought she should know he was in lyrium withdrawal. He hadn't expected his intentions to be that _obvious_ , but it was for the best, he supposed, trying to contain the fierce surge of hope in his heart as she indicated she would respond in kind. She was still hesitating – perhaps if he wasn't looming above her it would be easier for her to say, he realised sheepishly.

Cullen sat, taking the time to arrange himself on the wall, and then – with only a short moment of anxious deliberation – took her hand and waited. She smiled and squeezed his hand, before eventually sighing and letting the words come out.

'I told you I was betrothed. We never married, as I ran away when the wedding was still being planned, but that doesn't mean that, ah...' Aurore looked down. 'That I wasn't expected to take on the role and duties of a wife immediately, whether I wanted to or not.'

Cullen stared at Aurore's slim fingers wrapped around his as he felt alternately hot and cold, burning with an anger that clawed right up his throat and protectiveness and the need to get his hands around that man's neck and _squeeze_ , and frozen in horror and sadness and frightened he had overstepped her boundaries, that he had made her uncomfortable. Aurore seemed to sense his alarm, because she squeezed his hand again when he started to pull away.

'It was a long time ago, and it doesn't scare me like it used to, but I've not been with anyone since then,' she confessed softly but matter-of-factly, eyes still on her knees. 'I would very much like to be with you, but it may take me some time. I just wanted to let you know, in case you worried it was something wrong with you, instead,' she sent him a crooked and hopeful smile.

Oh, Maker.

Cullen's thoughts were a whirling mess. He didn't—he hadn't expected—for there to have been no one else she chose. She was beautiful, and so kind and so humble. How had there been no one in the Seekers or the Guard? He didn't know what to do with the knowledge she had waited for years for someone... that she had _chosen_ him knowing what it would mean. That she trusted him this much.

'Aurore,' Cullen said, and waited until she looked at him. And then any idea of what to say died in his throat, seeing those bright eyes looking at him so uncertainly, so unsure of how he would take this. He swallowed and then coughed awkwardly. 'There's nothing wrong with you.' _That_ , at least, he was sure of.

'I know,' she said, for the third – or perhaps fourth? – time that day, and she gave him another smile. 'I'm not ashamed of it, but that doesn't mean I get to ignore it.'

 _Maker, this woman_ , he thought, throat still tight.

'As long as you need,' he said hoarsely, eventually, and Aurore was smiling softly, and it felt like a secret between them. A warm little weight that he could breathe in and feel settle between his ribs, that he carried with him all throughout the rest of the day.

~*~

_I hope you're somewhere praying_

_I hope your soul is changing_

_I hope you find your peace_

_Falling on your knees, praying_

~*~

Cullen pressed his fingers into his temple, trying admirably to focus on the words blurring on the letter in front of him. It wasn't even something that required his full attention, like one of the detailed and complicated reports on the progressing restorations to Skyhold. It was the latest letter from Mia, who had finally moved on from admonishing him to telling him about his siblings' lives in South Reach and the family he had yet to meet. He could already tell the next letter would be discussing a visit. Even with his sister being the bossy eldest sibling he remembered, he was grateful Aurore had spurred him to contact his family. The letters he was being sent by his nieces and nephews were very sweet.

As if summoned, the door opposite his desk flew open, Aurore standing in the threshold and looking like she had run several miles to get there as she breathed heavily.

'Aurore?' He queried, alarmed, as he dropped the parchment and began stepping around the desk. 'Are you—' He was cut off as Aurore took decisive strides forward, grabbed either side of his face and kissed him fiercely. He made another noise of surprise against her lips, and then his instincts kicked in and his arms wrapped around her waist, pulled her closer as his head dipped lower.

Oh, Maker. She tasted like the cinnamon sugar cookies she had brought over with breakfast not an hour ago. She had promised Sera had not been allowed near this batch as she offered him one, her cheeks a lovely shade of pink as his lips closed around her fingers. He hadn't been disappointed when she had left him with a kiss on the cheek, the anticipation building with every exchanged look like a stoked campfire in his gut, promising a roaring fire if he contented to wait until they were both comfortable with more intimacy. It burned him, but in a very good way.

And now – with her mouth on his and her fingers in his hair, her body pressing against him, the smell of her soap and scent of her skin surrounding him. He had never had any doubt it would be worth waiting for, and he hadn't been wrong.

It must have been several minutes before Aurore broke away. 'Cullen,' she said, and the throaty way she said his name, her eyes still closed from their kiss and her face tilted up towards him, went straight to his groin. He tucked some wayward hair behind her ear and then rested his hand against her neck, thumbing her jaw and admiring her swollen lips, in a hazy shock she had kissed him. Aurore opened her eyes, giving him a shy smile. 'I'm sorry,' she said bashfully, 'but I nearly fell down the stairs up to my quarters just now because I couldn't stop thinking about kissing you. I needed to do it before I hurt myself,' she admitted, and Cullen could only chuckle, wrapping her up closer and pressing a kiss to her forehead as she tucked her head into him.

'No need to apologise; if it means your safety I'm happy to oblige,' he told her teasingly, and he couldn't help but tilt her head up again to kiss her once more when she laughed against his neck. She hummed in contentment, fingers brushing over his cheek, before the kiss heated and deepened. Her humming turned into a groan as he gently bit her lower lip, and then her hand was on his hip urging him forward as he pressed her back into the desk. She slipped onto it, letting him step between her legs as he tangled his hands in her hair and kissed her with everything he had. A string of disjointed "yes" and "Maker" was all he could think as he lost himself in her, as her hands dropped to his arse and she encouraged him to press into her, as she rolled her hips against him when he groaned at the pressure against his erection.

She pulled away. 'I need to go before I let you take me right here on this desk,' she said breathlessly, pupils dilated and hair messy, and Cullen sucked in a breath at the image, feeling himself twitch.

'Maker, woman,' he said, not able to string together more of a sentence, and Aurore grinned as she leant forward and pressed a kiss into his neck, to his jaw, under his ear. She hesitated, lips brushing over his skin, and Cullen could tell she was debating whether to say something. Aurore had on occasion told him how hard it was for her to wait, little confessions she rushed to get out that always made his gut tighten.

'You don't know how much I want you,' she whispered as she glanced up at him, and Cullen dropped his forehead to hers. He didn't know how to say “ _yes, I do”_ without it sounding all wrong and lecherous and too eager, like all her cared about was getting into her into bed.

'Enough to kiss me with the door open for all of Skyhold to see?' He teased her eventually, and Aurore chuckled.

'Yes, well, we've hardly been subtle these last few weeks,' she said, and even with his eyes closed he could tell she was smiling through the words. 'Even Blackwall has commented on it, and he hardly ever leaves the stables.'

'What did he say?' Cullen asked, mildly curious.

'He wished us happiness together,' Aurore murmured, and he could feel her skin heating as she turned her head to rub her cheek against his stubble. Cullen always started a little when she treated him with such tenderness, always rushed to respond in kind to her affections. Then she gently pushed him back to have the space to slide off the desk. She straightened her collar and then glanced up at him, blushing as their eyes met before she reached up to sort out his, finishing but letting her hands linger, thumbing over his scar.

'I'll come and see you tonight,' she promised, and he nodded. One last kiss, and then she was hurrying out, door closing behind her to a suddenly very empty room.

Their routine had settled into a shared breakfast and then some stolen moments after War Room meetings or at night as they tried to work through piled-up paperwork side by side. Until now, it had been hand holding and kisses on cheeks or knuckles, a casual affection that had amazed Cullen with how freely it was offered and how intimate it had felt. Now that this had happened, he couldn't help the excitement that speared through his gut as he thought ahead – would he get to kiss her every day while she was in Skyhold? He hoped so.

He resolved to make sure he was the one to fetch breakfast next time. He would get some strawberries. The thought of feeding them to her and then getting to taste them on her lips spurred him to tackle his paperwork, hoping the day would pass quickly until he saw her again.

~*~

_Oh, sometimes I pray for you at night_

_Someday, maybe you’ll see the light_

_Oh, some say, in life you’re going to get what you give_

_But some things only God can forgive_

~*~

'One last order of business then,' Josephine began, and Aurore sighed in relief, draining the dainty teacup that she always requested for the War Councils convened after she had been away to one of the various awful places where Rifts had opened up. They tended to drag on – this one had been going for almost three hours and all of them were getting hungry and irritable.

Cullen was mainly anxious to get Aurore alone. This trip away had been the longest by far; Aurore had been away from Skyhold over two months and Cullen had nearly sagged onto the table in relief when Aurore declared she had hated the Hissing Wastes so much, she had chased down every Red Templar lead and routed every camp and explored every blasted dwarven ruin so she would never have to go back to such a Blighted place. He knew that her decision to call a War Room meeting immediately after her return had been a tactical one, trying to free up her time for the rest of the day so they could spend it together.

'Alright, go ahead,' Aurore said as she rotated her head and her neck cricked impressively.

'We have received some correspondence from... your parents,' Josephine said, and it was the first time Cullen had heard her uncertain, heard her audibly stumble over her words.

Aurore raised an unimpressed eyebrow as she stared accusingly at the papers Josephine held in her arms. 'Oh?'

Their ambassador rallied and nodded. 'Yes, they have requested a visit to Skyhold if your duties mean you are unable to travel to the Free Marches.'

Aurore ran a hand over her face, pinching the bridge of her nose, then held her hand out. 'Please give me the letter.'

It was handed over a little reluctantly, but Josephine must have predicted the request as she had it tucked underneath her clipboard notes ready to pass along. Aurore read through it – it wasn't that long of a letter, considering Aurore's parents hadn't had a clue where she was for over half a decade – and Cullen watched as her face collapsed into resignation.

'Dear Aurore,' she began to read, and Cullen braced himself against the table, knowing from her face it was probably going to anger him. 'It has been so long since we have heard from you, ever since that terrible business with Matthieu. We hope this letter reaches you in this Skyhold, as after you...' Aurore visibly gritted her teeth. She unclenched them after a few moments and continued. 'After you left poor Matthieu at the altar we didn't know how to find you. We didn't realise how unhappy you were, darling; mistakes were made by all of us so as not to have avoided such a terrible outcome. All of that nastiness is in the past now, and we look forward to seeing you again. You are and have always been our daughter. If you cannot come home, we can travel to Skyhold. Love, Aurelia and Edwin Trevelyan.'

Aurore dropped the letter to the table and paced. Cullen tried not to be too angry as he chewed over the contents of the letter – he and Aurore had previously spoken some more of her family, who had dropped her like a hot coal when she ran away and had only tried to contact her through bounty hunters looking to take her back to Matthieu. Aurore had predicted her family would try to rewrite the past and sweep everything under the rug, try and pretend she was still family now that she was Inquisitor and had power and influence of her own. How predictable they had turned out to be. He was sad she had been right, angry at the way they treated her like a pawn in some game, a piece to be bartered and sold for more influence. He tried to imagine his parents ever doing such, and simply could not. He would never understand nobles.

He was drawn from his thoughts when Aurore stopped and turned, spearing Josie with a look. 'That isn't the only letter, is it? De Launcet sent one, too.'

Cullen blinked as he put the pieces together. Of all things... he had not expected a name he recognised. 'Matthieu De Launcet was your betrothed?' He asked with disgust curling his lip as his grip tightened on the table. Maker's fucking balls, he had met the man!

Aurore sighed. 'Yes.' Then she gave him a rueful little smile. 'If things had gone differently, we might have met in Kirkwall. As it was, I only spent a little under a year there before I ran away.'

Cullen frowned, the thought not a pleasant one. He didn't think Aurore would have much liked the man he was in Kirkwall. He swallowed through a dry throat as he realised – Aurore had spent nearly a _year_ with him? Was it a Marcher tradition he hadn't heard of, to live with your betrothed for a year before you wed? He would have to ask her privately later.

Aurore leaned forward, looking at Josephine steadily. 'Give me the letter, Josie. I can handle it.'

Although her words weren't directed at her, it was Leliana who sniffed daintily and handed over a letter, wax seal looking wholly and suspiciously intact. 'We know you can, Inquisitor, we simply wanted to spare you from it.'

Aurore did not read this letter aloud. She read it slowly, then carefully placed it down and smoothed it over the table. She took a deep breath as she stared down at it, hands braced either side. She was silent for some time. Cullen began to fidget, shifting anxiously from side to side, tightening and loosening his fists, knowing his armour was clanking and annoying but unable to stop.

'How did you know there was another letter?' He asked eventually, and Aurore shrugged.

'That whole “poor Matthieu” and “that's all in the past now” led me to think it would lead to a coordinated attempt to try and pretend we had remained engaged this whole time.' She waved a hand at the letter below her. 'I was right. The man has some stones, to talk about _reconciling our differences_.' She snorted. 'I am not surprised he wasn't able to find another woman to wed, even with being heir apparent to the De Launcet countship.'

'His reputation proceeds him,' Leliana interjected mildly.

'Does it now?' Aurore rubbed her jaw thoughtfully, still staring down at the letter. 'And how much is commonly known about what happened? I have made a point not to return to the Free Marches and hear the gossip.'

Leliana paused, and after a few seconds Aurore blinked and looked up, huffing out a laugh at whatever she could see of the Nightingale's face under her hood. She waved a hand dismissively. 'It's going to come out sooner or later, and I need to know before we respond.'

The _we_ warmed Cullen. Aurore had grown into the role of Inquisitor like she was born to it, but every time she showed that she was thinking like a leader, that she waited until they had given her counsel as her advisors before making a decision and thought of them as a unit, it made him proud.

'It is known that he mistreated you, and that you miscarried because of it.'

Cullen heard something snap and interrupt Aurore's answer, and realised he had broken off the edge of the table. He tried to be appropriately sorry, but instead he was just suffused in a murderous rage that he knew would need to be worked out with some vigorous sparring later. He would ask the Iron Bull, maybe Dorian, too. Both of them would understand his need to hit something really, really hard, he thought as he watched his fist crush the piece of wood. Images of running into Matthieu de Launcet as Knight-Captain in Kirkwall swam through his mind. If he had known then...

He came back to himself as Aurore placed her hands on his. 'It's alright, Cullen.' She told him softly, gently, like he was injured game, like he was the one who needed protecting. Oh, Maker. He had never thought it would be... how could a man do such a thing? Cullen didn't think he could say anything, especially when they weren't alone, so he just swallowed and nodded as he tried to school himself back into order. He looked around and saw Josie frozen with a horrified hand over her mouth, Leliana quiet and stood back against the wall from where she let Aurore pass.

Aurore gave his hands a squeeze and then crossed back to the other side of the table.

'So, what do we do about this?' She asked, picking up both letters and waving them. 'We could leave them unanswered, but I don't want either of them turning up at Skyhold expecting an audience. And I certainly want it made clear that any claim to my hand was withdrawn a long time ago.'

He wanted to say he still had friends in the Kirkwall Guard who could be relied upon to arrest De Launcet, nobleman or not, but he swallowed it back. He hadn't been arrested at the time, and to do it now would likely not result in anything but Matthieu being able to claim victimhood. Cullen needed to be smarter. He needed to think strategically. But he didn't think he could, worried his advice would be compromised. He looked over to Aurore helplessly, and she met his eye and then quirked an eyebrow before she gestured with her chin.

'Go on, this is more Leliana and Josie's domain. I'll be heading back up to my quarters after this if you want to talk.'

He wanted to gather her up close and crush her to his chest and tell her he would never, ever let anyone hurt her that way again. He didn't. He left with a nod to his fellow advisors, and a brush of his fingers across the back of Aurore's hand.

As he walked down the steps to the tavern, he felt his anger draining away, replacing itself with a sadness and grief that he didn't know what to do with. He stood on the last step and felt listless, knew fighting was not on the agenda now. Instead of imagining himself smashing his fist into Matthieu de Launcet's face, instead he was left picturing Aurore's suffering at the hands of such a monster, found himself wondering why such awful things had happened to such a kind soul.

No, no fighting, he needed something else entirely. He turned back up the steps and headed through Solas's mercifully empty chamber up to where Dorian was sitting in his little corner, reading some obscure book on magical theory.

'Oh, Commander, what a lovely—' Dorian's smile died with a twitch of his moustache as he caught sight of Cullen's face. He gestured to the seat by the table as he closed his book. 'Pull up a chair, then, let's hear it.'

Cullen cautiously asked what Dorian knew of Aurore's past and family, and was rewarded with an amused look. 'We are related, you know. We share some similarities when it comes to strained parental relationships due to ill-advised arranged marriages. Being of noble birth comes with some wonderful familial expectations... Aurore helped me in dealing with my father, and so, if I can help her in dealing with hers, by all means, do go ahead.'

And so Cullen told him. Told him what he'd heard, asked what he should do, how to deal with this. He wanted to know more, but he didn't want to upset Aurore by prying. He knew how some topics just cut too deep to be spoken of – he had noticed that Aurore had prompted Leliana to say it instead of saying it herself. Dorian and Aurore had remained close friends ever since Redcliffe, and he knew that if anyone knew how to support her now, it would be the Tevinter mage.

They had been speaking for nearly an hour by the time Cullen felt a little better prepared for the conversation ahead of him. He thanked the mage and said he would let him know how it went, and that maybe he would go easy on him in their next chess match. Dorian scoffed and said he didn't need the Commander to go easy on him to win, and waved him away with a little smile hiding underneath his moustache.

Cullen passed through the Main Hall completely ignoring the crowds within and passed through the first door leading to Aurore's chambers without pause. He climbed the steps to the second door much more slowly, stopping to knock this time.

'Come up,' Aurore called, and he pushed through and walked up the steps, coming to find her sat at her desk in a thick robe, writing. She looked up at him, her chin resting on her hand, and put her quill back in its stand. She stood and came over to him, taking both of his hands and looking up at him uncertainly. He waited, let her lead the conversation. Maker, but he just wanted to prostrate himself at her feet and beg forgiveness for all of mankind.

She took a deep breath. 'I'm sorry I didn't tell you before. It's just so hard to think about.' She seemed afraid he would take grave offence.

'Aurore,' he said, bringing a hand up to cradle her face. 'No. Don't apologise. I understand. I have my own past in Kirkwall I don't like to speak about,' he reminded her, and Aurore smiled sadly behind his thumb.

'Kirkwall is a terrible place.' Aurore said softly.

Cullen took his time dragging his hand across her face to tuck some hair behind her ear. 'Don't tell Varric that. He still thinks it's worth saving.'

Aurore nodded with a little chuckle before she looked down to watch her slippered foot tracing a line in the ground.

'Would you like to – to talk about it? I want to tell you. I want you to know me.'

He could read the fear so easily in her eyes, read how she questioned herself on whether he would still look at her the same way if he knew, how she worried that he would think less of her. He took her face in his hands and pressed a gentle kiss to her lips.

'I want to know you, too.'

She led him to the sofa placed at the foot of her bed, leaning over the railing to check the door below was closed and locked before she sat down. Cullen sat next to her, not with her tucked under his arm as they usually did, but facing her with their knees pressed together. He took off his gloves and took careful hold of her hands, running his thumbs over her knuckles as he waited for her to start, keeping his grip loose. Protective, not trapping.

'It wasn't so bad in the beginning. I was charmed by him, awed by the Mansion... completely inexperienced when it came to relationships. It was only when he began to get impatient with my reluctance to warm his bed that I began to see what he was really like. Pretty words and gifts didn't work, so he changed his tactics. Told me I was letting my family down if I disappointed him, told me I would make a poor wife, made me believe I would be worthless if he discarded me.' Aurore squeezed his hands when she saw how upset Cullen was getting, giving him a tremulous smile before she continued. 'I gave in. I endured it, thinking that it was easier that way, but before long he just began to berate me for different things. Either I didn't care about pleasing him, or I was ungrateful, or I was just _wrong_ to not enjoy it... so I stopped letting him, and that's when he began to force me, punish me if I resisted.'

Cullen realised he was crying when Aurore gently reached forward to wipe his cheek and pull his head down so his forehead rested against hers. 

'It's okay,' she whispered to him. 'He can't hurt me now.' She waited for him to nod before she pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Cullen rallied to the thought that he was meant to be the stronger one here, the one supporting her, and drew her gently into his arms.

'You are stronger than anyone I know,' he told her reverently, kissed the corner of her eye when tears began to gather there.

'My letters to home got more desperate. I begged my parents to find me another husband, but they refused. They insisted this was the best match they could find for me, that I should be grateful they had managed to find me a future Comte. I felt so trapped, then, when I thought that would be my life. I had lost all hope of anything better. But then,' Aurore closed her eyes and swallowed. 'Then I fell pregnant. It was three months before the wedding was planned, and I would be showing by then. Marcher tradition allows the period of cohabitation during the engagement, but the marriage is only supposed to be consummated after the vows. Matthieu was convinced I had done it on purpose to disgrace him, and punished me. I lost the baby.' Her face crumpled in remembered grief.

Cullen pulled her closer, needing to feel her heartbeat against his, a tangible reassurance that she had made it through because somehow just seeing her and holding her hand was not enough. 'Maker, I'm so sorry,' he told her as he buried his face in her hair. He would do anything, he thought, _anything_ to have avoided her such pain.

When she was quiet for too long, he leaned back to see her looking uncertain. He could guess why. Soon he would tell her about Kinloch and Kirkwall, he swore to himself. She deserved to know, to understand why he could read so easily into her now and see clearly as words upon a page that she was frightened that he would think less of her for what she was about to say next.

'Aurore,' he waited until she had looked at him. 'Not even the Maker himself can judge you. You do not need to feel any shame. Whatever happened next, you have come out the better person for it.' He had meant to say the words with a strong, clear voice - but they came out quiet and soft and slipped into the space between them, and Aurore nodded as she tucked her head back into his neck.

'I reached a low beyond anything I could have envisioned.' Her voice was slow and sad. 'I laid in bed for weeks and, Maker help me, but all I wanted to do was die.' Cullen held her tighter. Oh, but how he wished she had never looked to the Void for an end to her pain, how glad he was she had not gone down that path. 'I didn't. I was trapped in my room as I recovered and I read the Chant and then – and then I realised I could go no lower, that my only way out was up. But I knew life in that place would never be any better or safer. I thought that the Maker couldn't have intended I stay with this man. I ran away with my handmaiden and took the first boat I saw. We went to Val Royeaux and then onto Val Firmin. Our second boat got caught in a storm and sunk. I barely survived that, too. I lost everything I wasn't carrying on me and Lilly died and I thought – perhaps the Maker didn't approve of my plan after all.' Aurore gripped his collar like a lifeline, bowing into him as she sucked in a breath for composure. 'Everything went so wrong and it was so hard not to give in, to think I was being punished for my arrogance in thinking I knew what the Maker wanted. I knew that Matthieu and my parents were searching for me. I spent months on the road trying to barter my way through survival, doing just enough to eat and have somewhere to sleep, never staying in one place too long. I was hiding in some tiny little place I didn't even know the name of, praying to the Maker in their tiny Chantry to tell me what I was supposed to do next, when Cassandra came across me. She initially berated me for bringing my weapons into a house of the Maker, before she asked whether I knew how to use them. She took me with her back to Val Royeaux as an initiate Seeker, and it was there that I received an official letter from the House of Trevelyan disowning me.'

Cullen stroked her hair and kissed her forehead, her temples, tried to give her the affection Dorian had told him she would need, reassurance that nothing had changed between them. Aurore wasn't crying, but her eyes held an endless grief that frightened him. She looked... empty. He hoped it was his overactive imagination.

Cullen knew the story after this, so he continued for her. 'And then you stayed as an initiate for four years, until your Vigil. When you failed, Cassandra knew that your talent was too great to waste and she recommended you to the Divine's Guard.'

'Yes,' Aurore nodded, turning her head from where it was tucked against his chest and to look out of her open balcony doors to the mountain view. Cullen drew her face towards his, waiting for an assenting quirk at the corner of her lips before he gave her a slow, sweet kiss. He tried to convey through it all his affection and reassurance, and she seemed to understand. It had somehow always been that easy between them, to read between each other's lines and draw meaning from the smallest things.

'So what have you decided to respond?' Cullen asked her eventually, once the quiet had become comfortable, peaceful, like it normally was when they sat together.

Aurore hummed from her place resting against his chest, head tucked under his chin. 'Well, I don't particularly care about staying in the good graces of my parents, which makes things easier. And frankly I think they underestimate what a force the Inquisition has become. Josephine is going to issue a polite rejection to their request for a visit on my behalf, with a postscript from me so they can't claim I didn't see the letter. We're going to ignore everything else they said, and the other letter entirely.'

He thought it over. 'That does seem wise. To say as little as we can, and just make clear they aren't welcome.'

'Glad you agree,' Aurore said with a little smile. 'Leliana is going to continue keeping tabs on them all. We don't want any surprises.'

Cullen blew out a breath. Thank the Maker for Leliana. He would have to think of something appropriately fancy and Orlesian as a gift. Shoes for the upcoming ball? Vivienne would probably be able to help.

Aurore shifted and faced him. 'Tell me about your Kirkwall,' she asked him, and so he did.

~*~

_I hope you’re somewhere praying_

_I hope your soul is changing_

_I hope you find your peace_

_Falling on your knees, praying_

~*~

Cullen paced.

Even as he told himself he was ridiculous and pining like some lovestruck Orlesian, he couldn't help glancing to the sky outside and confirming again that night had definitely fallen, and that Aurore had not arrived.

He sighed and considered that it was likely she wasn't going to be able to make it. It wouldn't be the first time. Since being named Inquisitor, the amount of people demanding her time seemed to increase by the day – Josie had probably roped her into a dinner with some nobles or other. It didn't matter that they had only just gotten back from the Winter Palace and that they had purportedly rubbed shoulders with “everyone who was everyone, darling” as Vivenne had said; the line of gawking, overdressed peacocks waiting for an audience with the Inquisitor never shortened.

He wasn't going to get any more work done like this, he knew that from experience. Cullen resolved to try and get a good night's sleep before he rose early tomorrow to arrange for breakfast to be delivered to Aurore's quarters for once. He hoped it would be a nice surprise – he worried as he always did whether it would overstep the mark, but she had explicitly said he was welcome in her quarters, and as she had been the one to progress their relationship last time, he felt he should reciprocate.

He sighed again as he climbed the ladder and began to undress, thinking back to that morning. Dorian had lectured him during their chess match, and had informed the Commander in no uncertain terms that Aurore would appreciate reassurance he wasn't ashamed about or trying to hide their relationship. Cullen had scoffed at the time and dismissed a public display, but he couldn't help but think Dorian might have insider information prompting him to declare such with insistence. Perhaps Aurore had wanted him to kiss her as they danced together on the balcony at Halamshiral? He had thought he was finally taking in some of Josie's and Leliana's exasperated lessons on social etiquette and how being seen as available was far more important than actually _being_ available, and so they'd tripped over each other's feet and confessed they didn't much like this dance and laughed together, and Cullen had kissed her hand as the dance ended and they were fetched for Celene's closing speech, careful not to do anything too obvious. But Dorian was Aurore's closest friend, and the thought of her telling the mage she was unsure how seriously Cullen felt about her because he was only affectionate in private made him panic. He didn't want his reluctance to push her too far to be mistaken for something else; if Aurore would like him carrying breakfast to her quarters in the morning in front of all those gossiping nobles to prove he was serious, then he would do it.

He was just dropping off to sleep when he heard the door below open with a creak – the only one he left unlocked at night, which only Aurore and Rylen (and Leliana, not that he had needed to tell her) knew about for emergencies.

He waited to see who it was, what they would do. As much as he liked his second in command, if it was Rylen down there it had better be because something was on fire. The door closed; quiet footsteps went to the bottom of his ladder. It was Aurore. His heart thumped. She had come to see him after all.

A few heartbeats, and he was about to break through the strange paralysis that held him to call out to her when he heard her begin to ascend the ladder. He swallowed, unsure what to do, whether she was expecting him awake or not. She had never come up here before.

Aurore crested the ladder and only looked up when she had one foot on the upper floor. Her eyes widened – not expecting him to be awake, then.

She ducked her head as she finished climbing up, looking frozen in place near the ladder, and the quiet wrapped around them as he felt more than saw her looking at him, felt how nervous she was. Did she think he would send her away?

He leaned up on one arm and held out his hand, reluctant to break the silence but not wanting her to think she wasn't welcome.

She padded forward cautiously, but her hands sought him out in the dark without hesitation, tracing her fingers over his shoulder, his arm raised towards her, as she knelt forward on the bed. She dipped down and kissed him, hand splaying out as she rested her palm above his heart.

'I hope I didn't wake you,' she whispered eventually as she broke away, hovering above him. Cullen carefully placed his hand on her waist, realised she was dressed in nightwear, and shuddered as an intense spike of arousal speared through him at the feel of her body through the thin fabric.

'No, but even if you had, I wouldn't mind,' he said. He didn't know whether – should he shift back, give her space to lie down? Or did she want to just say goodnight and then go back to her own bed? He tilted his head at her, knowing she would understand his wordless question. She shifted, the bed creaking under her, and Maker if that wasn't a distracting sound that evoked all sorts of _ideas_.

'Can I stay here tonight?' She whispered eventually, and Cullen smiled ruefully. Aurore had beat him to the punch again; so much for trying to be the one to take the next step.

He didn't say anything, just shifted back and let her slip under the covers. He heard slippers hit the floor and tried not to overthink it as her felt the mattress dip under her weight. He rolled on his side towards Aurore to rest an arm about her waist, ready to kiss her goodnight and drop off to sleep, when he felt questing fingers start stroking his side before dropping down to the hem of his sleeping trousers.

He looked up to find Aurore looking calmly at him, hair splayed out as a backdrop to the triangle her bent arm made as she rested her elbow on his pillow and her chin on her hand. Her hand flattened against him as she brushed her palm down over his hip and pushed the fabric down with it.

Cullen forgot to breathe for a moment as his heart juddered in his chest.

'Did you nearly fall down the stairs again?' He asked her in a whisper as he raised himself to mimic her pose, and he could just about see the movement of her cheek as she smiled.

'Something like that,' she replied as she urged him forward with a hand on his cheek, her lips open and inviting and no matter how many times he kissed her, it was always better than he remembered.

She curled forward into him, making breathy little noises and outright moans into his mouth as she took his hand and drew it up to her breast. Cullen often felt like his hands were too rough and ungainly to be touching her. He didn't want to hurt her but he didn't want to disappoint either, so he had carefully catalogued and learned her responses, learned just how much force to use to tug her hair or how gentle to be to touch her teasingly through her clothes. He cupped her breast – bare under the fabric – and then drew his fingers together, pinching her nipple gently between two knuckles, and the _sound_ she made gave him a thrill of male pride. She lifted her leg and he felt her bare thigh slide into place above his hip. Cullen groaned as she pressed herself into him, and he couldn't touch enough of her at once. When she tugged him forwards he was quick to follow direction and roll over her, his elbow propping him up next to her head and one hand on the leg still bent around his waist. Maker, he could barely think, smoothing his hand up and down her leg automatically as he kissed her.

He gave her a few kisses and nips across her shoulder towards her collarbone before he pulled back. 'Is this okay?' He whispered.

Aurore laughed quietly as she nodded, a hand cupping his face again as her thumb brushed across his cheekbone. 'I missed you, even though I saw you this morning. I was trapped at this awful meal for hours when all I wanted to do was be with you, but it ended so late I knew you would be in bed. But I couldn't sleep, or stop thinking about you, and the more I thought about you the more I wanted you. I was getting so wet that I needed to touch myself,' Cullen felt all the blood in his body rush eagerly to his cock as he listened to her, his breath coming in pants and his mind spinning as she confessed such things to him. Aurore had not been shy in telling him what she enjoyed, in teasing him, and he hadn't ever thought hearing such things would arouse him as much as it did. 'And it just wasn't _enough_ and I realised I was being a fool, to pretend it was you touching me when I'm lucky enough to be able to get the real thing,' she finished, her voice low as her raised leg lifted even further and her calf pressed into his arse, forcing him to close the bit of distance he had tried to keep between their bodies.

He gasped into her mouth as he felt—his hand slid down to the top of her thigh and confirmed his suspicions. She had come to his tower in nothing but a short night shift. Cullen groaned as his thumb traced her hip bone, fingers splayed down to her arse, as his own hips thrust towards her before he could check the action.

'Oh, _yes_ ,' Aurore moaned, prompting him to do it again. She drew her shift up and off, and then she was bare under him and he was staring, wondering how he the Maker had seen fit to bless him with her.

'You're so beautiful,' he told her hoarsely, hand tracing down from the hollow between her clavicles to her breast, watching her reaction as he squeezed it gently and thinking he wasn't going to last long if everything she did was so erotic. He shuffled down and took her nipple into his mouth, suckling gently and feeling her buck underneath him. His hand gripped the soft roundness of her hip and then slid between her legs, slowly, always slowly so she could tell him to stop. But she didn't, and his fingers gently felt down her slit and _Maker_ she was wet and the _sounds_ she made when he slid a finger inside her were pure sacrilege. Cullen had never wanted anyone the way he wanted her, and he lost himself in her reactions, in watching her face as he tried one thing and then another, and if someone had asked him how long he spent worshipping her he wouldn't have been able to tell them.

She came apart under his fingers and mouth, and Cullen knew he could be content with making Aurore happy for the rest of his life, in watching her neck arch back and hearing her breathe out his name. She took a few moments to come back to herself, and when she did, she leaned sideways and reached down with one grasping hand to touch him through his clothes. Cullen bucked against her hand and hissed in a breath.

'Tell me what you want,' he asked her, the words all wrung out and almost growled, but he needed to be _sure_.

'Oh, Maker, Cullen, _please_ ,' Aurore almost sounded like she was sobbing. 'Please, I need you.' She bucked her hips again.

Cullen quickly pushed his sleepwear down past his knees, too eager to do more, and then shuddered with desire when he lowered himself back onto her and felt her wetness against him.

' _Yes_ ,' Aurore said emphatically, and her hand reached down to grasp him. He couldn't help another moan spilling out, and if he hadn't been too wrapped up in her he would have been embarrassed at how vocal she making him, but then she was tilting her hips and lining him up and he was insider her and, and, _Maker._  Maker he couldn't - couldn't think. She felt divine.

He kept it gentle and slow, tried to make love to her in a way he didn't think she had had before, the way she deserved, peppering her face and neck with kisses and sliding an arm under her so he was holding her close. He kept his eyes on hers, needing to feel near to her, wanting to be as wrapped up in her as possible. He was rewarded with hitches in her breath and noises of contentment, her fingers cupping his face as she gazed up at him, moved with him. After a while she wrapped her legs around his hips and urged him on, whispered _faster_. Her hands tangled in his hair and scratched lightly down his back as she arched towards him, as she groaned out his name like a prayer. She let go of him only to grab her breasts and pinch her nipples, slide a hand down between them. When he placed a hand on her face, stroking her cheek gently even as her body shuddered upwards against the headboard, she turned her head and kissed his fingers. Then she opened her eyes and looked up at him, one of her hands behind his neck as she kept their eyes locked, letting him watch as her mouth dropped open and her head spasmed back, and then her eyes were scrunching closed and she was coming around him, he could feel it, yes, _yes_.

'Aurore,' Cullen gasped out, he was so close now, the feel of her around him, it was too much to draw it out like he wanted. Aurore seemed to realise what he meant, because she nodded as her hands moved to slide down his sides to grip on his arse and leave him with no doubt that she wanted his seed to spill inside her. Cullen groaned louder than he thought he ever had before at the thought and he began to lose control of his pace, thrusting into her hard and bowing low over her as his hands gripped her hips, and he could hear her repeating his name like a Chant and oh, Maker, yes—his mind whited out as his toes curled and he choked out her name.

'Maker,' he exclaimed roughly as he collapsed, just about managing to get an arm underneath him so he wouldn't crush her.

Aurore laughed breathlessly, her fingers tracing through the sweat on his back as she turned her head and kissed his temple. 'Worth waiting for?' She asked him, mischievous and happy, and his heart melted.

He meant to say _yes_ , but 'I love you,' slipped out instead, and then he was rearing back awkwardly, uncertainly. 'Um, ah, that is – I mean,' he stammered, face hot. Maker's breath why did he always have to put his foot in it?

He did love her, he thought, in a daze. He loved her. He hadn't spent much time really _thinking_ about it. His feelings for Aurore had creeped up on him slowly and then overwhelmed him all at once until it was just something he knew, an undeniable fact like the sun rising in the morning. She'd been important to him for long enough now that he didn't examine it or doubt it, that her happiness and safety were paramount was without question. That the thought of losing her scared him more than he could handle.

He was still scrabbling for something to say when Aurore's hand gently turned his head. She was smiling.

'I love you, too, Cullen. Don't be silly, looking like I'm about to reject you,' she told him with an amazed little giggle, and Cullen exhaled in a relief and happiness so bright and sharp it nearly hurt, and he felt all over the place as he smiled down at her so hard his cheeks began to ache.

'I love you,' he told her again, testing the words, and Aurore flushed happily as she smiled wider and her hand ran through his hair and tucked some loose curls behind his ear. He said it again, both arms sliding under her waist as he pulled them flush together and nuzzled her neck, feeling her shake with laughter beneath him. He stayed like that a while as their pulses slowed down, content down to his bones just to be close to her, feel her body beneath his and her legs snug around him. Cullen realised he'd never been in love before, not really; he'd had infatuations and he'd had people he loved like his family, but he had never been _in_ love.

'I may as well just move in here, I'm going to be coming over every night regardless,' Aurore said, a yawn stealing out of her as Cullen chuckled and finally rolled off her, laying on his side with an arm around her waist, chin resting on her shoulder. He tried not to feel too smug, but it was difficult.

Aurore walked her fingers up and down the forearm snugly wrapped around her, and then said just above a whisper: 'I feel safe here. With you.'

'I'm glad,' he told her, knowing she would hear how much her words meant to him.

She was quiet again for a time. 'Do you believe everything happens for a reason, Cullen?'

Cullen opened his eyes, trying to draw himself out of the sleep that had been luring him in. Aurore was staring up at the ceiling, features looking placid in the moonlight. He hummed a soft agreement, and saw her cheek move in a smile.

'So do I. I may not have been led through the Fade by Andraste herself, but it's hard to believe all that has happened has been accidental. I feel like my entire life has been leading up to this.'

'It is hard to imagine life being any different,' Cullen concurred quietly. 'What will you do, once Corypheus is defeated?' He had to frame it as a when, not an if. The Inquisition would only be over once their work was done, he was sure of it.

Aurore turned on her side and looked at him for some time, eyes meeting both of his and tracing over his face, his hairline, his scar. He tried not to redden under the scrutiny. 'I will go where you go, Cullen,' she told him eventually as she brought a hand up to his face, stroking his cheek gently.

She had said she loved him, but it seemed more real now that she was looking at him like that and telling him she wanted to build something together after all this. Cullen could only nod before he drew her into another kiss, put his arms around her more firmly. 'Yes,' he said eventually, emphatically, and Aurore tucked her smile into his neck.

 

~*~

 

 

 


End file.
